


Everyday Streets

by paperflowers



Category: NCIS, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Misunderstandings, Mystery, old romances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 05:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16299125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperflowers/pseuds/paperflowers
Summary: It's complicated when you're two people, especially when one of those people knows Napoleon Solo.  Ducky just wants to get through his day but an old friend has other ideas..._______________No knowledge of The Man From Uncle required.  Only need to know that Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were spies in the sixties for an International Peace Organisation and Illya is Ducky.





	Everyday Streets

**Author's Note:**

> The crimes are inconsequential really...

 

> > > > **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>> **Prolgue - Slip Grips  
>  **
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> White fluffs of icy flowers floated down from the thick, grey laden sky sleepily.  It was five in the morning and while the rest of the world slept.  His dearly beloved and darling mother were driving him batty, forcing him to turn to dead bodies as a means of escape.  A man made his way carefully along soft padded streets that so easily could turn into treacherous rivers of slick. One moment of rain and it would all turn to slush.  His shoes, practical, but new, held the seeping cold at bay.
>>>> 
>>>> “Awwwww maaaaaan,” a loud voice complained.  He struggled not to roll his eyes then realising no one was watching so gave into the urge.  The young man reminded him so much of another.  Those times had gone but it still didn’t stop his head from turning when a pretty thing walked by.  Luckily he knew how to get his attention back on track.  It had taken far longer than he would have liked to discover that secret but not everyone was easy to control.  That’s why he liked him really.
>>>> 
>>>> “It’s your shoes my dear boy,” He announced.
>>>> 
>>>> The man ahead startled, his feet sliding ominously on the slippery ground before he turned and levelled him an exasperated glare.  Really.  He should be the one glaring.  Who wears shows that silly and expects to be fine?
>>>> 
>>>> “Ducky,” he greets almost darkly. Oh he’s expecting a story.  Well he does hate to disappoint.  One of his failings apparently.  Made him to be an excellent employee but a terrible at saying no when he really should.  There was many a times when his dear friend told him that he really should ought to look after himself better because -
>>>> 
>>>> “What?  No story Doc?”
>>>> 
>>>> Oh sorry.  Back to the job at hand.
>>>> 
>>>> “You see my dear Tony,” his pause was punctuated with a barely concealed tone.  If he didn’t want to know he shouldn’t ask.  He could only deduce that he either missed the story because it was so expected or he missed the opportunity to cut him off which was happening with alarming frequency these days.  He had to go home and tell it all to his dear partner, or mother, not that either of them ever listened either but at least they hummed in all the right places.  Well mother usually got very distracted but his partner was excellent at putting on a show of quite interest when really he wasn’t listening at all.  “The soles of your shoes are not conducive for good grip on low cohesive surface tensions which tend to happen when water is involved. You see the water creates a film-”
>>>> 
>>>> “Yeah I got that Doc.  That’s why I have got slip grips in my bath,”
>>>> 
>>>> See?  Wanted to cut him off.  He should fine them every time they did that.  At least dear Abby had the decency to let him finish or hold a conversation with him.  There was no respect these days.
>>>> 
>>>> “Something occur to you Tony, deep in the night?”
>>>> 
>>>> “See that’s what I like about you Doc,” Tony said, opening up the doors and motioning Ducky to go inside first like a gentleman.  “You know how to get answers without making me feel stupid,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Oh you’re anything but stupid Tony but you do put a lot of effort in appearing as a clown.  Being underestimated suits you most of the time and I know it stems from being a cop.  Always a good idea to make the perpetrator assume they have the upper hand,  Makes them sloppy,”  Ducky said and turned when there was no response.  He was greeted with a sincere, awe tinged gaze that made Ducky feel rather sad.  That no one noticed this, or that Tony thought no one cared to notice was a disappointment.
>>>> 
>>>> “You really are something else Doc,” Tony says.  “Everyone else just gives me put downs and says I’m incapable because I’m a Phys Ed and not a PHD in microbiology.  Or something smart like that,”
>>>> 
>>>> “That’s because your head has a tendency to swell up like a helium balloon when you’re given a compliment,” Ducky watched Tony set up his desk.  He could go straight down to autopsy but he was in no rush. There were no pressing cases, thank Goodness and it had been some time since he’d had a heart to heart with anyone but Abby or Jethro. Jimmy hadn’t quite made it into his confidences yet but it did look good for the young student examiner.
>>>> 
>>>> The return look was sheepish.  “Because I hear it so little,” he replied.  “Plus, I don’t want to take it too seriously you know and then people will think I expect it.  Which I don’t.  I work with Gibbs.  Getting compliments from him is like getting blood out of a stone but -” Tony stopped.  “Never mind,”
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky shook his head.  “No.  What is it?”
>>>> 
>>>> Tony looked reluctant.  
>>>> 
>>>> “You know I will not reveal any confidences to Jethro.  My boy what do you take me for?  We all need someone to spill to now and again.  Now tell Ducky what’s been on your mind,”
>>>> 
>>>> Tony gave him a fond, exasperated look like ‘dear grandpa is at it again, isn’t he a silly old fool? (but he’s earned it)’ kind of way which Illya would have taken offence to but Ducky thought was just sweet and kind of endearing.  Tony was a good guy really, beneath all the crap he piled on top.  Oddly vulnerable too when you got down passed his beat cop, hardened detective layers.  He was one of the most protective, loyal people Ducky knew and reminded him very much of an old friend.  Sometimes Ducky wanted to point out Tony had more focus.  Which was saying something.  Honestly, the number of times he got in a scrape because Napoleon, sorry, Albert, was off googly eyed instead of alert…
>>>> 
>>>> “Kate gets well dones and happy looks.  And MGee gets pats on the heads and all I get are smacks on the heads.  And don’t get me wrong.  I can recognise signs of affection when I see it because when he’s really annoyed he just stares at me like I dropped a puppy but -”
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky nods.  “Sometimes it would be nice to get his approval in a more open, public setting.  Say, in front of your co-workers,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Yeah.  And I always get stuck with babysitting duties,”
>>>> 
>>>> “You mean Kate and Timothy?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Yeah,” Tony huffed.  “Not that I don’t like them.  I do.  Even if they are annoying - what?” Tony asks at Ducky’s chuckle.
>>>> 
>>>> “Oh dear you misunderstand.  Don’t take offence I’m not laughing at you, per say,” Ducky defends himself.
>>>> 
>>>> “But you _are_ laughing at me,” Tony interjects flatly.
>>>> 
>>>> “Only in the sense that you are a silly young man,” At Tony’s open mouth he holds up a hand, which prevents his protests.  Kate or Timothy he’d have talked over but Tony, he knew, highly respected him, and for Gibbs...well he’d never dream of mouthing off at his boss.  Much.  “Training up Greens is an invaluable skill.  Get it wrong and you’ve wasted time breaking in a newbie and you could very well ruin their careers.  And your own.  Look Tony, Jethro trusts you with our most valuable and promising assets - new personnel.  That you’ll look after them, watch their backs, make sure they do their jobs properly and know they have sometime to turn to that’s higher up but not him and is still in the direct chain of command.  It might not be in your official title yet my dear boy, but you are, in all but name, his senior officer,”
>>>> 
>>>> Tony said nothing for long enough that Ducky felt it was a good time to leave him with his thoughts.  The Italian frowned and opened and shut his mouth a few times as words escaped him.  Ducky chuckled and patted his knee.  “If only the others were here to see you stumped,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Stumped Doc?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Speechless,” Ducky said as he left.
>>>> 
>>>> And that was Ducky.  Full time Medical Examiner, part time counsellor and saviour of hearts all across...well...NCIS really.  But it used to be all around bad ass and rescuer of one clumsy, libidnous, fool hardy American with the equilibrium of a tilted axis and the attention span of a small dog.  Donald regarded Tony for a moment.
>>>> 
>>>> Actually, some things never change.
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>> **Act One - A Warmer Place To Sleep  
>  **
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> “What we got Doc?” Jethro asked sweeping into the autopsy bay with grandeur.  There had been a time when head turns when _he_ entered a room but usually only because they were looking at someone else.  Or expecting him.  OK, so only the one head had every really paid attention to his whereabouts at any given moment.  If you asked him he’d still be able to tell you exactly where Ducky was in a room.  To be so connected with another...it would stifle someone like Tony but for Illya?  For Ducky?  It was precious.
>>>> 
>>>> “Well it’s a little strange.  Officer Augustus is completely dehydrated,” Jimmy said glancing at Ducky.
>>>> 
>>>> Oh right.  He was supposed to be giving the big reveal and being shut down with shark like efficiency.  There was a time when people listened to everything he had to say you know.  Long time ago now.  Still, it wasn’t so bad. They were good people.  Good people didn’t always have time for explanations.  Mr Waverly had been the same.
>>>> 
>>>> “Yes, thank you Mr Palmer,” Ducky stepped in as Jethro looked between them like the world had tilted on its axis because he hadn’t immediately said anything.  Also Jimmy looked like he was squirming on the inside the poor boy.  Jethro did have that effect on so many people.  He remembered one time…
>>>> 
>>>> “And?”
>>>> 
>>>> Oh right.  
>>>> 
>>>> “Well that’s the thing Jethro.  There’s not an ounce of hydration in him,” Ducky went on.  “It’s like all of the moisture was sucked out of his body,” he said.  “As a matter of fact I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened.  There’s an old technique dating back to the 1500’s…”
>>>> 
>>>> “Officer Augustus?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Yes.  We identified the body through dental records.  Abby’s confirming through AFIS now.  She’s also running the samples I gave her.  I’m sure she’ll be able to tell you exactly how ‘hinky’ this is,” Ducky said fondly.  That girl would have done well in another life.  They could have used her back then when they were fighting a war no one could see.  They were still fighting wars no one could.  The battlegrounds of the everyday streets of the world.  The silent warfare that went on everyday drifted through people’s lives like dust on the wind.  Some were touched by it but most blew right through.
>>>> 
>>>> “That was the cause of death?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Yes,” Ducky replies.  “Nothing was broken or severed.  There was no asphyxiation and unless Abby confirms either there doesn’t seem to be any evidence of poisoning,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Great.  Thanks Doc,” and he was gone.
>>>> 
>>>> “Meat puzzle?” Jimmy asked after a moment’s silence.
>>>> 
>>>> “Don’t see why not.  Let me just get this poor lady to bed,” Ducky said turning to the body on the table, warped as it was.  “Oh I am sorry my dear.  But for now it will be cold storage, just in case you do have more stories to tell and then we’ll see if we can find you a warmer to sleep,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Talking to them, helps keep them alive for you doesn’t it?” Jimmy asks.
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky levels him a stare that has him shifting awkwardly.  “Yes,” he replies.  “Too many a surgeon have become besotted with the idea of cutting.  That the _surgery_ is all.  They often forget the life they hold in their hands is far more precious than that,”
>>>> 
>>>> He waited for Jimmy’s response. Gerald had thought him weird for it but Jimmy...Jimmy reminded him of hismelf in many ways.  “I like it,” Jimmy evaluated.  “That was a person once.  And we’re the last ones they’ll truly spend time with.  It should be respectful,”
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky almost beamed.  “Yes Jimmy.  It should indeed,”
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>> **Act Two - Tovarisch  
>  **
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> Warm arms slid around his waist.  “You didn’t come home for two days,” murmured the voice.  “You left me all alone, so early in the morning too.  And then you stayed away.  If I were an insecure man I might think you were avoiding me,”
>>>> 
>>>> “I’m here aren’t I?”
>>>> 
>>>> “That’s a terrible answer,” the voice said.  “You didn’t even call,” he could practically hear the pout at the end of the sentence and hated himself for wanting to kiss it away.  Such a cute pettit lip.
>>>> 
>>>> He sighed.  He knew what he was getting into.  High maintainance.  It’s why he never kept a woman.  That and the man was ravenously homosexual when it came to forming emotional connections but that never stopped him from indulging his body in its needs.  Thank God.  If he was off fulfilling his never ceasing itch elsewhere he wouldn’t hump Illya’s leg like a dog.  Which he did once.  And found himself locked out.
>>>> 
>>>> For a week.
>>>> 
>>>> “You’re such a child,” he responded.
>>>> 
>>>> “I missed you,”
>>>> 
>>>> Illya turned, softening, hand cupping an ageing face with sincere eyes.  “I missed you too,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Liar,” the response came quickly, but fondly, and with a smile.  
>>>> 
>>>> “It’s true.  As much as I love my job.  And I do love my job.  It’s not the same as spending time with you,”
>>>> 
>>>> “I love you too,” came the smug voice.
>>>> 
>>>> “I never said that,” Illya replied.
>>>> 
>>>> “Yeah you did,”
>>>> 
>>>> “No I did not ,”
>>>> 
>>>> “You love me best.  It’s OK.  I know.  Now go to sleep,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Napoleon,” Illya huffed as a hand slid down to cup his cheek and squeezed.  
>>>> 
>>>> “Hmmm?”
>>>> 
>>>> “That’s not conducive to sleeping,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Not if you’re using long words like that Tovarisch.  Maybe I should wear you out,” Napoleon grinned.  He wouldn’t see it in the dark, not with his eyes anyway, but his ears told him all the same.  And knowledge.  Knowing Napoleon his eyes were sparkling too.
>>>> 
>>>> “That’s not- Napoleon!”
>>>> 
>>>> And if he did sleep soundly after that, through the noise of the blasted neighbour’s caterwauling, well...he’d never tell.
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>> **Act Three - My Capitalist Friend  
>  **
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> The fluorescents of the autopsy bay hummed as the metal shone, gleaming beneath.  The sterile room greeted with him with its usual silence.  He liked these moments of solitude before Mr Palmer came.  Oh he relished the chance to impart his wisdom unto others but he also appreciated that right now he was not Ducky, nor was he Illya.  There was no part to play in the cold, sterile room, alone with no audience but the body waiting for its final story to tell. 
>>>> 
>>>> Sometimes he’d tell them of Napoleon.
>>>> 
>>>> His team, his _family_ did not know if his greatest love, his worst secret, his best friend.  To reveal Napoleon to them would be to shed a part of himself that he would prefer to keep under wraps.  He was not ashamed of his other half, but even now to admit to being in such a relationship...it was difficult to say out loud.  And not only that but it fed into a past that he wanted to remain hidden.  Bringing Napoleon out into the open could and would only jeopardize that.
>>>> 
>>>> Napoleon had nodded and smoothed down his shoulders as he explained.  “You’re an old spy my friend, but a spy you remain,” he had said, and sent him on his way.  With a lunchbox.  Said lunchbox had ‘I’m Russian, or at least I was,’ written on it in fancy ink.  He was informed that this would result in a movie conversation with Tony, for it was a quote that he would undoubtedly know.  Napoleon just appreciated the bold irony of it.  He had grinned unbearably for an hour before hand, eyes full of triumph that looked sexy but made Illya feel like he should tie Napoleon down just to be safe.  So he did.
>>>> 
>>>> Illya opened the line he had kept open on the phone next to Napoleon’s bed.  “How are things hanging?”
>>>> 
>>>> “They aren’t,” came the tense reply.  “You _know_ things are not _hanging_ but very much pointing upwards,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Dear me.  Without any _help?”_
>>>> 
>>>> A snarl was all his reply.  
>>>> 
>>>> “Don’t worry Napasha, I’ll be back in a couple of hours to relieve you,”
>>>> 
>>>> “You better,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Have I ever let you down?” Illya asked moving to set up. The new body was waiting him, brought in just twenty minutes ago.  That meant Palmer wouldn’t be here for another forty minutes and he may as well begin without him - if he wanted to meet his deadline that is.  And he very much did.
>>>> 
>>>> The silence was telling.
>>>> 
>>>> “No,” came the eventual reply.  “You never did.  Not once,” Napoleon’s voice was soft, tinged with regret.  “I wish I could say the same,”
>>>> 
>>>> “You were always there when it counted,” Illya assured him.  
>>>> 
>>>> There was a rustle, a shaking of the head perhaps before the man remembered he was on the phone and couldn’t be seen.  “I remember being too distracted by a pretty blonde and you’re head on the chopping block,”
>>>> 
>>>> “As I recall, that time you were very focussed,” Illya replied.  “You must be confusing your Affairs,”
>>>> 
>>>> “But it still happened,” Napoleon whispered.
>>>> 
>>>> “It doesn’t matter,”
>>>> 
>>>> “It does!  Illya -”
>>>> 
>>>> “If _I_ cannot recall it, then it does not matter, no?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Illy-”
>>>> 
>>>> “No no my Capitalist Friend.  All is said and done now.  All you have to do is lie back and think of England,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Why don’t you lie back and think -”
>>>> 
>>>> But Illya cut him off. It was time to merge between the one he used to be and the one he was now.  Besides, leaving Napoleon in the lurch was good for him.  Like Tony the man had an ego the size of the planet and knocking it a time or two was good for him.  He needed to be held firmly to Earth by a safe hand.
>>>> 
>>>> “Don’t worry dear.  We’re just going to have a nice long chat so we can help Jethro find who did this to you,” he patted the corpse’s shoulder fondly.  “It should only be three hours.  Oh I know I told Napasha two but, it does wonders for him to wait a little longer and the idea of him waiting, with nowhere to go is a little appealing,” he confessed.  “I used to do that to him when we were younger and I wanted to punish him for something.  Now I rather think it’s a reward - a sign that things haven’t changed all that much, even if I’m now Ducky and he’s now Albert,”
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky set about examining finger nails and peering in opaque eyeballs.  He searched every orifice he could find and logged every detail.  “The very first examination I did like this was actually on a dog you know.  Of course I hadn’t been happy about that at all, what with being terrified of canines.  That happens when you grow up starving in the Ukraine I guess.  Being chased by ravenous mutts was even less appealing than scraping together half a meal from the same bins they were scrounging from.  And of course they were even less picky than I was.  Not  that it always came to that.  Just when things got really bad.  It was better to try and claim Russian heritage than stay as you were.  They always had looked after their own better,”
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky moved to the slicing and dicing part of the show as Palmer came in, the automatic doors whooshing open.  Sometimes he thought Jethro would have preferred push doors to make his entrances and exits all that more dramatic.  Mr Palmer though probably appreciated the lack of handles: he had an alarming tendency to always get the ‘push/pull’ part wrong and would jiggle the handle like that was going to solve the issue.  “Ah Jimmy, you’re right on time.  I was just about to start,”
>>>> 
>>>> “I’m not late?” Jimmy questioned.
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky peered at him through his glasses and the screen he was wearing, voice dropping a note.  “Do you want to be?”
>>>> 
>>>> The spring in his step was quite effective.  ‘“No no.  No Sir.  I’m right on time.  In fact I’m a little early.  I’ll just slip into something more comfortable and be right with you,” he hastened through another door to change, Ducky’s shaking head following him all the time.
>>>> 
>>>> “Reminds me of an Agent Salford,” he told the deceased marine conspiratorally.  “Always seemed like the world was an intimidation to him but in the end, he was as tough as nails.  Everyone underestimated him.  Except Napoleon.  Saved his life when Salford tried to kill him,”
>>>> 
>>>> “So what do we have Doc?” Jimmy asked eagerly.  
>>>> 
>>>> “Another poor soul snatched from this life by the cruel and all too usual my dear Mr Palmer,” Ducky replied.
>>>> 
>>>> “Isn’t it, cruel and _un_ usual Doctor Mallard?” his eyes were naive and a little blank.  Oh how he was trying to fill the space between his ears with something other than pure anatomy facts.  But there was nothing there.  He could see the disjointed information just jangling around when it didn’t fit neatly into his world view.  Not that Jimmy was closedminded.  He was just innocent.
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky hated that he had to chip that away.
>>>> 
>>>> “No,” he said in a tired tone.  “Unfortunately we live in a world where this sort of thing is all too usual.  Or am I not here every other week searching for the last story a life has to tell?”
>>>> 
>>>> Jimmy rocked on his feet, chastised.  “Right you are Doctor Mallard.  Sorry,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Don’t apologise Mr Palmer.  Just don’t do it again,”
>>>> 
>>>> …”Sorry...do what again?”
>>>> 
>>>> Oh dear Lord, they were all doomed.
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>> **Act Four - Pussy Cat  
>  **
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> They had settled into a nice routine of Ducky announcing all of his findings for Jimmy’s tape, which he sometimes followed him around with and was told to put on the table.  Again.  Half of the hours on there must be Ducky telling him off for something or another.  You know, he never appreciated how Jethro felt until he got a green around the gills probie who had never really been tested.  But it was nice, to bring someone up using his own world view.  To be given that honour...well...it was precious.
>>>> 
>>>> “Well.  Report to Agent Gibbs of our findings.  It’s basically the same as before. Just tell him what he was told the last time,”
>>>> 
>>>> There were several long moments of silence.  Ducky turned to find Jimmy pale and staring at him, his small eyes as wide as they could go and a faint tremour in his wrist.  “Mr Palmer?  Are you quite alright?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Talk...talk to Agent G-Gibbs?”
>>>> 
>>>> “...Yeeeesss…” Ducky replied slowly.
>>>> 
>>>> “I - I can’t do that,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Of course you can my boy.  It’s not that hard.  Just give him the facts straight, he likes it that way, and don’t leave anything out,”
>>>> 
>>>> “But...I…”
>>>> 
>>>> Jimmy didn’t finish his sentence.  Ducky continued to clean up: cleaning any specs of stray blood, taking off his gloves and heading for the little back room where he kept his things.  Jimmy was still gaping like a fish when he came back.  If he couldn’t say what he couldn’t say he wasn’t about to help him.  Kid needed to get it out somehow and if he couldn’t admit it to his mentor then Jethro would just come to him and he didn’t want that.  He had an old fool to get to.
>>>> 
>>>> “I can’t talk to Gibbs!” Jimmy blurted as Ducky was heading out the door.
>>>> 
>>>> “Why ever not?”
>>>> 
>>>> “He’s scares me,”
>>>> 
>>>> Good point.  The man was rather terrifying.  In a pussy cat sort of way.  Ducky thought it all rather amusing really, the way the children fell about themselves for his approval, to avoid his scorn.  It was a dance Tony knew better than all of them.  Jethro had once tried that tactic on him and quickly learned that even as Ducky Mallard, Illya Kuryakin wasn’t one to bend under the steely glare of a former marine with a caffeine addiction and poor home safety protocol.  The fact he left his door unlocked spoke and his house unbooby trapped spoke of a shocking arrogance and the comfort of believing he was the target of no one.
>>>> 
>>>> “Good,” Ducky replied, turning to leave only to find his way blocked by the man himself.   “Jethro,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Going somewhere Ducky?”
>>>> 
>>>> “I have a lunch engagement,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Not anymore you don’t.  There’s been another murder.  I want you on site this time.  You’re with me,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Jethro I really do have things to take care of,”
>>>> 
>>>> Jethro levelled him a cold stare.  “You holding out on me again Doc?” he asked softly reminding Ducky of a tiger ready to strike.
>>>> 
>>>> “No no, of course not,”
>>>> 
>>>> “So lunch is more important?”
>>>> 
>>>> No.  No it wasn’t.  Napoleon would be able to survive a little longer without him.
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>> **Act Five - Sadistic Pleasure  
>  **
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> Jimmy was in the autopsy bay when it happened.
>>>> 
>>>> Jimmy had been going over the latest autopsy recordings he had taken with Doctor Mallard.  He spent several moments skipping over Doctor Mallard’s trips down memory lane, which were frequent when he was interrupted by Gibbs or another member of the team upstairs.  This time he was going on about his time in South Africa when a Warlord threatened to castrate him.  Jimmy wasn’t entirely sure he believed that one but you could never tell with Ducky.  He said everything with such conviction that you just had to believe everything that came out of his mouth.  Not like Agent DiNozzo...it was very difficult to tell what he was talking about. A lot of that stuff went over his head.
>>>> 
>>>> Doctor Mallard had conducted yet another autopsy, a third death to go along with the other two.  He seemed a little tense, what with the way he snapped at him a few times, which was odd.  The only times he had seen him like that was when Doctor Mallard recognised something about the body, or it sparked a memory from the past.  And yet he had given no indication that his mood had anything to do with the case.  Jimmy might have said troubled home life but he only had his mother and Doctor Mallard knew well how to handle her.  Besides, he had promised Agent Gibbs never to hold out on him again.
>>>> 
>>>> “Tell Jethro, I’ll be at home.  There’s some things I absolutely must attend to.  I’ve been away from mother too long and hadn’t the time to arrange for someone to check on her,” the doctor had said slipping on his coat and all but scurrying out the door.  Perhaps his mother wasn’t quite as well as he had claimed.  She was old, very old, and her mind was slipping away like water.  It would hardly be surprising if her capacity was diminishing even further.  After all Doctor Mallard had to be about 70 himself so she had to be at least 90.  Maybe a little younger considering she would have been born early 20th century. 
>>>> 
>>>> “I...but..”
>>>> 
>>>> “You’ll be fine Mr Palmer.  Just remember, don’t look him directly in the eyes for too long.  He might take it as a challenge,”
>>>> 
>>>> Jimmy missed his tiny grin as he made his way out.
>>>> 
>>>> Jimmy span around a few times, flapping aimlessly at the autopsy bay like it would hold the answers before settling on listening to his recordings.  Better prepared for the next autopsy was a good idea he thought.  Doctor Mallard was coming up with new ways to challenge his thinking.
>>>> 
>>>> Sitting down and setting the tape to play he began. Listening to Doctor Mallard speak was always a pleasure, even if he did go on a little sometimes but the man had the right.  Not only was he one of the best in his field, he always made Jimmy feel welcome and had such a caring way about him that Jimmy found touching.  Most people wondered why it mattered, now that the person was dead, to treat them in such a gentle way.  But Doctor Mallard held them precious, like children, cradling their last will to the world in gentle, soft deft hands.  He coaxed the last secrets of their lives from the still, vulnerable bodies and he thanked them for their whispered truths. It was a bit creepy at first, to see and listen to him have whole conversations with a corpse.  At first Jimmy thought he might be a little nuts, and then he was just eccentric, but that was before he understood the meaning of Doctor Mallard’s actions.  The man had grace.  More grace than Jimmy had seen ER doctors or surgeons conduct themselves with.  And he had more respect for those who had passed than many had for the living.
>>>> 
>>>> Doctor Mallard had only been gone for about 10 minutes when the phone rang.  This was unusual because normally someone would just come down or a cell would be used but he supposed that with the examiner not being here, and most likely driving that if they wanted to get a hold of him then they may call the phone.
>>>> 
>>>> It was probably Gibbs.
>>>> 
>>>> Jimmy eyed the phone.  He could ignore it, but that would mean a personal visit and that was even more horrifying than the thought of speaking to him with distance between.  Sure it was only a few floors and he knew where to find him and they’d see each other in the flesh soon but...well...better to bite this bullet than the next.  Jimmy picked up the phone and prepared to speak.
>>>> 
>>>> “Mallard you’re days are numbered.   There is no describing the horror, the _sadistic pleasure_ I am going to take in taking you a part, _piece by piece_.  I _will_ find you and when I do, you will be sorry,”
>>>> 
>>>> …
>>>> 
>>>> “Um…” hummed Jimmy, and the line went dead.
>>>> 
>>>> His heart thudded so hard in his chest he thought it might just beat its way out.  Jimmy glanced at the time.  Doctor Mallard definitely wouldn’t be home yet and he might be in terrible danger.  And so was Jimmy.
>>>> 
>>>> He was going to have to talk to Gibbs.
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>> **Act Six - STAT  
>  **
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> “What?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Umm...Sir...I mean Agent Gibbs...I think Doctor Mallard may be in trouble, Sir?”  Jimmy winced as he said Sir again but Gibbs didn’t care.  He just wanted the information STAT.  And the kid stuttering was slowing things down.
>>>> 
>>>> “How so Palmer?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Well there was a phone call to autopsy and -”
>>>> 
>>>> “Why didn’t Ducky answer it?”
>>>> 
>>>> “He’s not here si-Agent Gibbs,”  He should lay off. He knew.  The kid was trembling but a life may be hanging in the balance and he’d be damned if he was going to spare any _feelings_ when he could be saving that life.
>>>> 
>>>> “Where is he?” Gibbs stalked closer to Jimmy and then stopped.  Any close and he was sure the kid might wet himself and no one wanted that.  He was standing on carpet.  That was always a bitch to clean and facilities would _not_ thank him for it.
>>>> 
>>>> “He, he went home,”
>>>> 
>>>> “And what did this mysterious caller say?”
>>>> 
>>>> “That he was going to find Doctor Mallard and take great pleasure in hurting him Sir,” Palmer replied, then mouthed ‘Agent Gibbs’ in correction.
>>>> 
>>>> “MGee!  Get Abby trace the call to the autopsy phone line.  Find out where it came from.  DiNozzo, Kate, start the truck, and call Ducky!”
>>>> 
>>>> “Hey! What do you mean Duckman might be in trouble?” Abby’s face came on the screen.
>>>> 
>>>> Gibbs shot MGee a glare.  “If you’re not going to help with this, then get to the truck,” he ordered not watching as the techie left.
>>>> 
>>>> “I need a trace on that number Abby,”
>>>> 
>>>> “I’m doing it now,” she assured him. “Uh oh…”
>>>> 
>>>> “What?”
>>>> 
>>>> Abby turned, face paler than her usual pale and said with gravity.  “It came from Ducky’s home phone number.  Whoever it is, is inside the house,”
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>> **Act Seven - Flowered Bedspreads  
>  **
>>>> 
>>>> **~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**
>>>> 
>>>>  
>>>> 
>>>> Warm hands gripped his hips from behind holding him firmly, a breath moist against his ear.  The figure was just a touch taller than him, the body warm and pressed up against him.  He stayed very still least his assailer get any rogue ideas.
>>>> 
>>>> “You are in big trouble mister,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Can’t imagine what for.  Not like you were uncomfortable as you lay there.  Prone.  Waiting for me.  A dish to be served - ow!” he gave a little yelp as his side was pinched.
>>>> 
>>>> “I had to pee,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Bed wasn’t wet.  I see you got yourself out in plenty of time.  How long did you wait by the way?”
>>>> 
>>>> “A while,”
>>>> 
>>>> Illya grinned to himself.  “How long as a while?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Long enough to plot my revenge,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Oh do elaborate,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Oh no.  I fell for that last time.  I am _not_ falling for it again,”
>>>> 
>>>> “You mean when you fell victim to your own heinous trap?”
>>>> 
>>>> His attacker’s face scrunched into one of his famous blanching faces.  “Yes,” he agreed begrudglingly.  “I don’t plan on giving you the ammo,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Oh Napoleon.  I’m always in charge,”
>>>> 
>>>> Napoleon gave a scoff.
>>>> 
>>>> “What about the times I’m on top,”
>>>> 
>>>> Illya grinned.  “Because I let you be,”
>>>> 
>>>> Napoleon leaned in, nice and tight.  “That’s only what I let you believe,” he whispered to save face and moved away.  Illya instantly missed the heat from his partner as cooler air seeped in and took its place.
>>>> 
>>>> “No hard feelings my friend?” He asked brightly.  “Or should I say, no foul feelings,” he amended with an innocent look which he worked hard to maintain in the face of Napoleon’s unimpressed one.
>>>> 
>>>> “I bite,” he replied.
>>>> 
>>>> “Oh I know you do,” Illya responded in satisfaction.  “And _I_ give what I get,” he twitched his eyebrows teasingly.
>>>> 
>>>> “I’m making dinner,” he announced and moved away letting Illya get on with his ritual of settling in for the evening.
>>>> 
>>>> The yummy smells of food wafted throughout the big house.  When Napoleon decided it was time to cook ‘properly’ he made an excellent show.  He always made too much and they always had leftovers for the next week, sometimes two.  He usually ended up taking Abby some - the only one to know about his cooking skills.  He never cared to enlighten her least he invite unwanted gossip that those skills were not his own.  Over time both Tony and Jethro had partaken in sampling Napasha’s dishes.  Illya watched him fondly as he alternated between humming happily and describing techniques to no one in particular.
>>>> 
>>>> “Where’s mother?” he asked after the fourth anecdote he remembered all too well regarding Italy.  He didn’t know why Napoleon insisted upon bringing it up when it made him sad.  He rather imagined his dear friend forgot the end part until he came to it and remembered his sweetheart had picked someone else.  
>>>> 
>>>> “In her room.  She’s probably nearly sleeping.  The dogs are with her.  I think.  Tyson might still be up though,”
>>>> 
>>>> “I’ll go check on her,”
>>>> 
>>>> “If you rile her, I won’t be happy,”
>>>> 
>>>> “She’s _my_ mother Napoleon.  Besides she misses me,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Is that what you think?”
>>>> 
>>>> It may be horrifically childish to stick his tongue out at his age but he could think of no better response.
>>>> 
>>>> His mother was asleep beneath overly flowered bedspreads. The flower motifs were an ugly sight if there ever was one but it pleased her so and made her think of a pleasant youth reading illicit letters from her distant lover.  She had been quite the woman when she was younger.  You could argue she was quite the woman now, what with the threatening to stab you with a kitchen knife she somehow managed to secrete on her person.  Napoleon’s response to that revelation had been ‘I can see how you are related’ which had made him smile.  Of course his mother would be able to make a large kitchen knife vanish with nobody noticing whilst wearing a nightgown and hide it in a place no one could see.  Illya smiled fondly at the memory.  He still found it amusing that is mother had almost gotten Napoleon right across the arm.  His partner hadn’t found it so funny though.  Pity.  Should have seen the look on his face.
>>>> 
>>>> Mother was surrounded by a bundle of dogs, minus Tyson, who would be somewhere around the house.  He was the preferred guard dog of the family: always alert, always ready to bite and always tenacious.  Napoleon had said he reminded him of a young Illya, which he couldn’t decide whether he should be flattered by or not.  He settled for fondly disgruntled by being compared to a Corgi of all breeds.  But he couldn't deny they had character.
>>>> 
>>>> He was pottering around the room when a crash came from the kitchen.
>>>> 
>>>> “Put your hands up!  Now!”
>>>> 
>>>> “Jethro?” Illya questioned.  Why was Jethro here?  And why was he threatening someone?   Had there been an intruder? 
>>>> 
>>>> Napoleon.
>>>> 
>>>> Illya hurred from the room, his age old training kicking in as he peered from his vantage point around the corner.  Jethro was standing menacing Napoleon who had his hands raised, apron on over his suit (because he refused to wear anything else, the daft old bugger) looking both alarmed and amused, which was so very Napoleon. Tony, MGee and and Kate were all pointing their guns at him which made him nervous.  Napasha was too much like Tony and would probably piss Jethro off to the point of shooting him.
>>>> 
>>>> Oh dear God Tony and Napoleon were going to be insufferable.
>>>> 
>>>> Resigning himself to movie references all night Illya stepped out and donned a Ducky thick skin.  “Jethro.  Good God man what are you doing?”
>>>> 
>>>> “You Okay Doc?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Yes of course I am.  Albert put your hands down,”
>>>> 
>>>> “No,” Jethro denied.
>>>> 
>>>> “Yes Jethro.  Clearly I know him,” Ducky replied beginning to get annoyed.
>>>> 
>>>> “Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do Doc,” Tony chimed.  “He left a menacing message with Palmer that he was going to take great pleasure in taking you out,”
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky levelled Albert a look who returned it sheepishly and waggled his wrists.  It took him way back to the Love Affair where Napoleon had nearly burned out his wrists and he had multiple injuries.
>>>> 
>>>> “He’s paraphrasing,”
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky rolled his eyes.  “Put your guns away,”
>>>> 
>>>> “But Doc-”
>>>> 
>>>> “I am _not_ in danger from Albert,” Ducky levelled Jethro a firm and unyielding stare.  He turned to his long time partner.  “You are an idiot,”
>>>> 
>>>> “I know,” he replied and Ducky could see the ache to add an endearment.  As times changed Napoleon had become freer with his lips and hands, comfortable in his own skin.  It was Illya who still preferred to keep things low key.
>>>> 
>>>> “What’s for dinner?”
>>>> 
>>>> “Ahhh,” Napoleon, sorry, Albert, said with flourish.  He always did love to show off.  He needed no occasion for this and would do so at the drop of a hat.  He craved attention like Illya had once craved to be ‘part of the furniture’.  “First I made this lovely little bruchetta infused with -”
>>>> 
>>>> “Just like that?” Tony asked.
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky turned his attention back to his friends who were all hesitantly lowering their guns  and looking at Albert suspiciously.   “Yes Anthony.  Just like that,”
>>>> 
>>>> “All right,” And for Tony, it was enough, though he knew Albert Scholler’s profile was going to be run tomorrow.  It was no matter.  It had held up against greater scrutiny than an NCIS agent could give.  And even if it did not, both he and Napoleon had diplomatic immunities, pardons, commuted sentences, time serveds and the like in all but two of the countries they had operated in.  For America, it was iron-clad immunity for all previous crimes.  NCIS couldn’t touch them even if they wanted to.
>>>> 
>>>> Plus, he still had a few friends in the CIA under whose jurisdiction he technically fell - being an ex-Russian spy and all.
>>>> 
>>>> “We’ll just...go,” Jethro said.  “See us out Ducky?”
>>>> 
>>>> “You won’t be staying?” Albert asked innocently.  They all turned to him giving him a disbelieving stare.  “I made too much again,” he said giving Ducky an ‘innocent’ look.
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  “You did this deliberately,”
>>>> 
>>>> Albert’s face transformed into a wicked grin, eyes lighting up with a playfulness that Ducky hadn’t seen in some time.  “Well how else was I going to meet this family of yours.  You’ve been keeping them all to yourself,”
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky saw Tony’s head snap to him.  “No waaaayyy,” he gasped, a quick smack earned to the back of the head.
>>>> 
>>>> “Wait...what?” McGee asked confused.
>>>> 
>>>> “Come on you three,” Jethro said herding them out the door.  “Let’s leave them to their dinner,” he said.  “We’ll have to take a raincheck this time but I’m holding you to it,” Jethro levelled both Ducky and Albert a solid stare.  Oh yes.  He’d certainly be looking in deeper at one Albert Scholler.  Ducky could only hope he liked what he found.
>>>> 
>>>> “Oh please do,” Albert replied.  “I’m sure Donald will be able to bring you left overs tomorrow.  As a way of apology for your wasted trip,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Don’t hold out on us Tony!” Kate whined as they were ushered out.
>>>> 
>>>> Ducky levelled Albert a glare.  
>>>> 
>>>> “You know I think you’re sexy when you do that,”
>>>> 
>>>> “You’re sleeping on the couch,”
>>>> 
>>>> “Ouch,”
>>>> 
>>>> His back was twinging already.
>>>> 
>>>>  

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER - I do not own NCIS or the Man from Uncle or the characters therein


End file.
